All I Want for Christmas
by In Dreams
Summary: After drawing Hermione's name in the Ministry Secret Santa, it only took Draco a year to get her gift right, on Christmas Eve.


**Author's Note: **I'm so thrilled to participate in the DHr Advent again this year! My prompt was _**Christmas Eve**__. _

Thank you to the DHr Advent admins for continuing to put together such a first-rate fest. Alpha love to Kyonomiko, and beta love to dreamsofdramione.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Draco Malfoy took a long sip of his hot cocoa—-stowed in a tall mug and heavily spiked with Irish cream whiskey—and peered up at the massively tall fir tree that stood outside the Ministry of Magic. Adorned in millions of fairy lights and a festive colour scheme, the tree stretched so tall into the dark of night he couldn't even see the top from the ground.

The warm liquid soothed the chill in his bones as it poured down his throat, even as he winced at the potency of it. Shoving his other hand deep into the pocket of his peacoat, he turned to go, feeling the nip of the cold on his nose and cheeks.

As he turned, a grimace crossed his face; Hermione Granger stood some distance away, her mittened hands cradled to her chest as she eyed the tree. Her gaze shifted to him, and he watched her eyes tighten.

Ducking his chin into a nod, Draco made to walk past.

"So tell me," she said, her tone casual, her expression decidedly not, "do you enjoy making my holidays miserable, Malfoy?"

"I do not." His tone came out clipped—but he wasn't interested in having this conversation.

"I don't _care_." She let the words hang between them, and unwillingly, Draco lifted his eyes to meet hers. "But it's awfully immature, even for you. It was one thing, last year, when I was the only person in the Ministry Secret Santa who didn't receive their gift."

Wrinkling the bridge of his nose, he felt a dull pressure behind his sinuses. Granger had a funny way of doing that.

"I told you," he bit out, gruffly. "Your gift didn't pan out."

"Then _why_, Malfoy, did you bully Neville into switching with you this year? He told me you'd specifically found out who'd drawn my name." As she shook her head, Draco noticed a slight tremble to her hands where they clutched her arms. A cool gust of wind blew past, sending a shiver down his spine. "Was it just so I wouldn't get a gift again?"

He failed to stifle a smirk. "You think I'm _that_ petty?"

The look she gave him was answer enough.

Wincing, Draco took a long pull from his alcohol laced with cocoa. "For someone who supposedly doesn't care, it sounds an awful lot like you do." He held her stare for a long moment. "It's three days until Christmas. I guess you'll find out then."

"I _don't_ care," she reiterated.

"Right," Draco mused. "Of course not."

Granger released a little huff, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. "I suppose I just… I thought we were past all of that."

_That_. The war. The way he had treated her at Hogwarts. The early years when they'd both wound up at the Ministry and clashed heads until they almost didn't anymore. And even now, things between them were… stilted.

"Look." He blew a breath out, watching as it formed a cloud of vapour in the air in front of him. "If I thought you wanted a sparkly bauble, Granger, I'd have bought one for you."

And it _certainly_ would have blown through the ten sickle limit.

Brow furrowed, her cheeks were rosy from the cold and her hair wild from a long day. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Draco released a sigh, feeling fatigue settle into his bones beside the chill. "It doesn't mean anything, Granger. Have a good night."

Before she could unleash her next retort, he turned and walked away.

* * *

Staring at the letter before him, Draco felt his heart leap with disbelief. Despite himself, his throat felt thick and warmth stung at his eyes.

He had almost started to believe it truly impossible.

Sweeping a hand through his hair, he scanned the missive another three times.

"Merlin's bollocks," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Then a slow grin cracked across his face. "About bloody time."

He'd stopped watching the galleons flowing from his personal account months ago when the treatments had become more intensive.

And tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

Heart racing in his chest, he grabbed his cloak.

* * *

There was a small Muggle pub on Whitehall in Westminster, across the street from the Ministry of Magic. From his stool at the bar, Draco could see the base of the magically oversized tree on the grounds of the Ministry, but it remained invisible to the Muggles passing by.

Finishing the last swig of a tall glass of ale—an effort to lubricate his nerves—Draco noticed Granger approach the tree. It was something she did every year on Christmas Eve.

Even during the day, without its fairy lights aglow, the tree was impressive.

Her hair was pinned back in a semblance of order, thick red mittens on her hands. Releasing a breath of relief, Draco noted she was alone.

The relief faded quickly—she would be irritated he'd once again failed to manage her Secret Santa gift on time before the Ministry had closed for the holidays.

Peeling a Muggle note from his pocket, Draco left it on the bar beneath his empty glass. With a nod to the older Muggle couple at a table across the pub, he felt a smirk tug at his lips, his heart pounding a rampant cadence in his chest. As he walked past, he muttered, "Wish me luck." They smiled at him.

As he ventured across the street, approaching the tree, Granger turned and noticed him. Her expression remained neutral, even as the skin around her eyes tightened, but she pressed her lips into a somewhat forced smile as he sidled up alongside her.

"Malfoy. Happy Christmas."

"And to you." With the sun still high above, the air was warmer than it had been two nights prior, and Draco slid his hands into his trouser pockets as he stared at the decorated tree ahead of them. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Her tone was polite but crisp, as if she didn't want to be conversing with him. "It is." With a quirk to her brows, she added, "Of course, I'm sure you're used to extravagance like this."

"My parents never cared for the holidays."

Her eyes met his, and something flashed in her expression before it fell again. "Mine did." A hint of a wistful smile tugged at her lips. "Every December, we would drive into the country to select a tree. Mum and I would spend all afternoon decorating it while my father played terrible renditions of Christmas carols on the piano."

Draco chuckled. "They sound great."

Her face fell again. "It was a long time ago. Things have changed."

_Changed_. She was referring, of course, to the fact that her parents' memories had been diagnosed permanently irreparable after the war. Uncomfortable, he muttered, "Indeed."

"What are you doing for the holidays, Malfoy?"

Uncertain whether she was engaging him in conversation due to the spirit of the season, or whether she simply didn't care to be alone while reminiscing on painful memories, he lingered, shrugging. "Mother and I might have dinner, I suppose. She and her sister, Andromeda, have been making an effort to reconnect."

A smile tugged at Granger's lips at the idea. "That's lovely. Andromeda has been through so much." She cast him a conspiratorial look, and went on, "I apologize for being hard on you the other day. I really don't need a gift anyways. I just couldn't understand why you deliberately took on my name."

"Well as it turns out," Draco said, squinting into the light of the sun, "I do have your gift. Only a year late, I'm afraid."

His stomach churned into a ball of nerves when surprise filled her voice. "You do?"

"Yes." He gave a brisk nod. "Only, you need to come for a walk with me to retrieve it."

Her face tightened with apprehension, only for a moment, before confusion took its place. Even so, she offered a shrug. "Fine, Malfoy. I'll humour you."

Granger kept pace as he turned and led her from the tree, his heart pounding so hard he imagined it was a wonder she couldn't hear it. "I _did_ mean to get it for you last year, but unfortunately some complications arose and they took longer to work around than intended."

"Merlin, Malfoy, it's a ten sickle gift," she muttered, a teasing smile on her face. "I hope you didn't go overboard."

Draco quite thought Granger would faint if she realized how much he had spent on the treatments, and chose not to respond.

She eyed him warily as he pushed open the door to the small pub across the road, and parted her lips to speak—perhaps something in his expression stalled her words, as her mouth snapped shut once more.

Curious, her stare roved the small room, and a harsh breath chased from her lungs as a smile pulled at his lips.

Kenneth and Jean Granger—her parents—waved from across the room; in their faces he could see trepidation mingled with excitement.

"Malfoy, you—" Granger stuttered, turning towards him; her eyes welled with tears as they searched his own. "You—my parents?"

The truth sat heavy on his chest. "It took a while. But the healers were finally able to break through the spell two days ago."

She clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob, and Draco gripped her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Merry Christmas, Granger. Enjoy yourself, yeah?"

A tear leaked down her face as she shook her head in silence. "Malfoy… thank you doesn't feel like enough."

He gave a slow nod. "It's enough, Granger." His palm lingered on her shoulder before he flashed her a smirk and left the pub.

* * *

After the war, the Manor had felt stifling enough that Draco had purchased his own flat. It was small, the walls were too white, and the personal effects were minimal, but it was home.

Every so often, however, he felt lonely. After his father was sentenced to Azkaban, his mother stayed in the Manor with the elves at first—and sometimes she visited Andromeda and his cousin Teddy. But for the most part, she lived in the vacation homes in France and Italy.

He wasn't even sure whether their paths would cross for Christmas.

The bright and quiet of his flat felt disconcerting, and Draco rose to pour himself a drink when there was a soft knock on the door. Frowning, he hesitated. The building was warded against Muggles, but any of his usual guests would have simply used the Floo.

He pulled open the door and blinked, startled, when chocolate brown eyes met his.

"Granger." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling awkward. "I didn't know you knew where I lived."

The expression on her face was one that he knew all too well—the look when she was trying to solve a problem. She waved a flippant hand, with a brief, "I didn't."

His breaths were shallow in his chest. "Would you like to come in?"

"Fine." She sidled through the doorway into the flat and Draco pressed the door shut behind her.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Please."

Finding a small measure of distraction in pouring two drinks, he glanced her way. "I thought you'd be spending the evening with your parents."

"How did you do it?" She was closer than he'd anticipated, and Draco forced a thick swallow. "_Every_ healer told me it was impossible."

Handing her a tumbler, he breathed, "I just kept asking more healers."

Her eyes were watery again as she accepted the drink, taking a small sip. "I still can't believe it." Incredulous, she shook her head and her voice dropped. "_Why_ did you do it?"

Offering his best effort at a casual shrug, Draco mused, "I couldn't think of anything else you wanted. Like I said, you don't strike me as the type to desire fancy jewels."

"Ten sickles, Malfoy," she murmured, humour in her voice. "It wasn't meant to be anything fancy at all. I gave Katie a pair of socks."

Granger lingered near the door as she sipped her drink; the silence crushed down on his chest and he took a long swig.

"As it turns out," she mused, "my parents have a lot to settle after having been away for so long. I'll spend tomorrow with them, I suppose." As she peered around the stark white flat, she frowned. "You really don't do anything for Christmas?"

"Not much."

"My parents suggested I invite you to have dinner with us," she said, her voice soft. There was a gentle flush to her cheeks as she glanced at the floor. "They thought, considering the lengths you'd gone to in order to help restore their memories, that we were together."

Draco forced a nervous chuckle, unable to meet her stare when her eyes bored into the side of his face. "Imagine the thought of that."

"Right," she deadpanned, swigging the last of her drink and placing the empty glass on the coffee table. "So, imagine their surprise when I told them we work at the Ministry, in different departments, and that we don't really get on."

"If you're trying to ask a question, Granger," Draco ground through his teeth, "ask it."

"I already did." He finally met her eyes, swallowing. "_Why_?"

His mouth felt dry, his tongue thick and cumbersome. He took a sip of Firewhisky, wincing at the heavy burn of it. "Because I treated you like shite for so long, I thought it was about time I did something nice. Okay?"

She wore that same expression that suggested she was trying to figure out the answer to something complex, and it made him nervous. "Holding the door for me is something nice." A furrow creased the skin between her brows. "Merlin, Malfoy, do I even want to know how much you spent on specialized healers?"

Delicately, he clipped, "No. You don't."

"Please," she whispered, "tell me why."

Finishing his drink, he idly stared at the glass before setting it down. "Maybe I thought you'd been through enough. You put your life on the line time and again during the war—and for a clap on the back. You sacrificed your own _family_. You're bloody brilliant… and they've got you pushing papers at the Ministry with the rest of us." He gave a heavy shrug, feeling blood race through his veins, colouring his cheeks. "I just wanted you to know I see everything you've done, everything you're still doing. And maybe it's too many years too late, but I wish I'd opened my eyes sooner."

Her wide, chocolate eyes were glossy with unshed tears when he forced himself to meet her stare.

Blowing out a long breath, he finished, "I wanted to give you peace, if nothing more."

"Peace," she whispered, lips parted. "Malfoy, that's—Merlin, I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Managing a weak smirk, he muttered, "I wouldn't get too used–"

The words dropped, stifled, from his mouth when she leaned in, her lips grazing his skin as she took his face in her hands and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. As she drew back, her face was flushed, but one of her hands lingered on his jaw, her fingertips grazing the stubble.

He caught her fingers. Granger flinched, making to withdraw, but he held firm, keeping her hand against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered for a brief moment, his throat bobbing with a thick swallow as he released her hand, but it lingered, cool against his skin.

He breathed, "What was that for?"

"A thank you. For my parents."

Disappointment clenched his chest, but he offered her a tight smile all the same. "You're welcome, Granger."

"And…" she added, letting the word hang in the charged space between them. "Because I've seen you too—the efforts you've made at amends, the ways you've changed. How you're doing your best, even if no one ever notices. Even if no one recognizes it." Her hand on his cheek slid along the line of his jaw into the hair at the nape of his neck as her eyes dropped to his mouth. "_I_ notice."

Draco could taste the hint of Firewhisky on her breath and his heart stuttered in his chest. For a splinter of a moment, he wondered whether she would push him away if he tried to kiss her.

But then Granger pressed up on her toes and her lips met his, tentative but assertive. When the initial shock washed away with the feel of her kiss, he dragged her closer, her chest brushing against his own when he swept a hand down her back and buried the other in her curls.

As he kissed her, he felt the emotion of the moment well within him. Slanting his mouth over hers, he marveled at the way she felt tucked against him. After so long, watching her from a distance, wondering whether he could ever make it all up to her—she was in his arms. His heart throbbed at the thought.

Her tongue tangled with his; she tugged at his collar, drawing him closer still, and tore away with a quiet whimper. Draco's chest heaved as he stared at her, fixated on her lips.

"That one wasn't for your parents," he choked out with an incredulous huff of laughter.

"No," she mused, her lips brushing his again, "that one was for you."

Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way. "I have a confession."

Her fingers twisted in his hair, eyes sparkling as her lips quirked into a smile. "Another one?"

Dropping his chin, he murmured, "I didn't actually draw your name last year, either. Potter did."

For a moment, Granger gaped at him. "Harry knew?"

"I made him swear not to tell you," Draco said with a smirk. "I didn't want to get your hopes up."

She only shook her head, eyes shining. "You're definitely coming over for dinner tomorrow."

With a grin, he ducked in; against her lips, he muttered, "Anything you want."


End file.
